


PliRoy Week 2019

by KuraiOfAnagura



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiOfAnagura/pseuds/KuraiOfAnagura
Summary: Because of s-o-m-e people I felt suddenly inspired to write theese :/The drabbles are going to be short shortstories, nothing major, but little snippets here and there.I hope you enjoy reading them!





	1. Day 1 - Cats

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Cats

Yuri came home from his daily ballet lesson to find his boyfriend in a rather odd situation.

Even if it was the off season Lilia required a daily 2-hour long exercise session from him, something that Yuri, who’d ever been incapable of sitting still and doing nothing, liked quite fine.  
It was JJ’s year to spend the off-season in Russia and usually they’d go jogging together or to the gym to exercise side by side. When Yuri went to Lilia’s studio every Tuesday and Friday though JJ opted to stay at home, stating his basic survival instinct. While he’d never ditched ballet entirely like Otabek, he still wasn’t up to the standard of a Prima Ballerina Absoluta.

Back to the odd situation. Yuri came home, discarded his bag, shoes and keys and was a little bit suspicious as he wasn’t greeted by either Potya or JJ. The two of them were in the living room and JJ’s expression could only be described as sheer relief as he saw Yuri entering the room.  
He sat on the couch and Potya sat on the floor in front of him.   
He’d tugged his feet under his body and also sat on his hands, giving the impression of a very huddled potato.

“Yura, thank goodness you’re home!”

“Do I even want to know?” Yuri closed his eyes and went into the kitchen to fetch himself something to drink. Again he found it odd that neither of the two were following and as he returned they hadn’t moved at all. Except for Potya’s swishing tail.

“Chaton, do you think you could help me out here? Like, uhm, don’t take this personal, but… could you please remove this creature from the darkest pits of hell from me?” JJ dared to get one of his hands out from under his but but froze as soon as Potya’s eyes zeroed on the movement, her but wriggling tell tale.

“Aaaaaah,” it clicked for Yuri. “Don’t tell me you let yourself corner by her for the last two hours?”

“She’s a beast, Yura! A beast from hell! Everytime my foot stuck out she would attack it! So I sat on them, but then she started attacking my hands! And now I’m here and your cat is a monster!!!”

“Aw, Potya! Did you scare a full grown man again? Did you? Yes you did! Who’s my organ grinding Princess? You are!” Yuri went full cat-mom mode as he bent down and pulled Potya up into his arms, nuzzling into the soft fur of her belly as he cradled her like a baby.

“That deserves some treats, don’t you think so, Puma Tiger Scorpion?”

He could see JJ slowly unfolding on the couch, shaking his limbs which had fallen asleep.

“Don’t encourage that kind of behaviour,” JJ pouted as he joined Yuri in the kitchen. He put cat snacks on her snout and watched her catching them with her sharp teeth and barbed tongue.

“She’s a cat, Jeh Jeh, it’s your own fault that you let her make a game out of it.”

“She tried to kill me, Yura!”

“Oh, clearly not. Don’t worry. You’d know if she would want to kill you. Actually we might want to invite the geezer and Katsudon for dinner. Then you can witness it firsthand.”

JJ suddenly felt a lot of compassion for his boyfriend’s coach and decided that if they’d come for dinner he would bring out the good wine so that they at least wouldn’t die sober.


	2. Day 2 - Pre-canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Pre-cano  
> Ever thought how that quad in Juniors must've looked to other people?

“Those damn Russians.” This was the first time he’d ever heard his father curse inside the house. When frustrated or angered Alain Leroy would usually excuse himself gruffly and step out on the veranda. From there they could detect muttered swear words, even though Alain thought he’d been unheard.   
It was the only reliable source of good bad words JJ had learned, which had come in handy during arguments at school. He had gotten reported for it, it was a catholic school after all, but winning over that oaf had been worth it.

JJ tried to refocus his attention from his father to the skating program they were currently watching in their computer screen. It was an European Junior competition, JJ, who would do his Senior Debut this fall, didn’t really understand why he should watch those he would leave behind.

“It’s always good to watch out for future competition,” his mother, ever so sagely, would answer, if he were to ask.

“Alain!” his mother gasped a slightly slapped his shoulder. His father ducked his head sheepishly between his shoulders.

“What? I’m right, am I not? That kid’s like what? 6? And they make him doing quads? His knees will be that of an 80 year old before he hits puberty!”

“No swearing inside the house, Alain, you know the rules!”

His father sighed deeply and put a tenner into a cooky jar over their stove in the kitchen. 

“Who is he, if he can do quads already?”

“Pli… Plis… Plisess… nah, it doesn’t matter, my boy. If he’s that good the Russians will burn him to gain as many medals in Juniors as possible. He probably won’t make it to Seniors and even if, he’s no threat to you. Now go to bed, don’t forget your prayer and we’ll see you at 7 sharp for breakfast and then a jog to the rink, okay buddy?”

JJ did as he was told. After all he would be the next rising star of figure skating thanks to his parents coaching. His way had been hard and stony so far, but with them and their experience behind him he could face anything. Even the ever infamous Nikiforov.   
Who was another little Russian upstart with a quad? His dad was probably right. He would never hear from the blond boy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never again has Alain been that far off the track and Yuri will forever be mad that he was once deemed forgettable :D


	3. Day 3 - Rivalry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: our English teacher would ask us random vocabularies that were rather uncommon in daily life to broaden our word pool.   
> One day he asked about Rivalry and my hand was never faster in the air than during this lesson and English was acutally one of my worst subjects of them all and my marks where at the bottom half of the scale. My teacher was more than surprised.  
> But oh boy did I know the word for rivarly because I just found out that Naruto scanlations are a thing xDDD

To say their relationship suffered during the Olympics was, mildy put, the understatement of the century. The GPF was all fun and game, Europeans and 4C were thankfully no issue, but when Worlds usually rolled around things got a little bit… heated.   
Mila once accused Yuri of being a body swapper. Nobody could go from scratching his boyfriend’s eyes out while roaring at the top of his lungs that he would slice his neck with his knife shoes, to all cuddly and warm in the matter of one fucking night.   
The night after the Free Skate was traditionally that one night with the hottest and angriest sex and the cuddliest and warmest aftercare possible. The day of the Gala Yuri would be calm, docile and even giggle in public. It was downright scary.

At the 2018 Olympics they were constantly at each other’s throats. Their verbal spat during the opening ceremony even made international headlines. They were so fresh in their relationship back then that the rivalry that was ignited in them before and during the games proved to be a major set back. They had discussed that Yuri would spend some time in the off-season with JJ in Montreal, but as things stood between them after the games they decided to postpone their visit and maybe their entire relationship while they were at it.   
It was only thanks to JJ who suddenly stood in front of Yuri’s door in Moscow in the hottest August air, with very wilted flowers from the airport in his hands, that they hadn’t broken up before they really started.

This time they were older, more experienced and more steadfast in their relationship. When the season started they had it all sorted out. They would only skype once a week, talk about cats, Victor’s balding spot and the weather and nothing else. Via text they would exchange the occasional naughty picture, as JJ still called them, and mostly memes and cat pictures.

It was safe. It was the best for them. He knew how else they would tear each other apart.

And it drove Yuri insane.

Yakov was all for celibacy before a big competition, stating how it would keep his drive up. Yuri was all for giving Yakov the finger, because he did not need anything to keep his drive up, thank you very much, he was born with so much spite and salt.

“Yuri,” JJ said from the other end of the shower room, keeping a respectful distance as they had agreed on. Yuri’s heart sunk a little at the name. No Yura, no Chaton, not even a Princess. He would deny it to his dying day that he would come to miss the degrading nicknames JJ still called him in public.

“JJ.”

JJ sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck before he finally looked up at him tiredly. “I- uhm… I just wanted to inform you… that I won’t be competing at worlds.”

“What?” The reaction was as sharp and demanding as he’d anticipated. “Why?” Yuri demanded like the Queen he was.

“I’m tired-”

“The fuck!? You’re scramming because you’re tired?” Yeah, ok, he wasn’t really the poster child boyfriend here, he knew it. But he and JJ both couldn’t help themselves when it came to their behaviour during competition. JJ got obnoxious where Yuri became aggressive.

“Please let me explain…”

“What’s there to explain? You’re-”

“Yura!” JJ rarely got loud with him, he knew of better ways to taunt Yuri and to make him mad, screaming had never been his go to method. Which is why it shut Yuri up immediately.

“I twisted my ankle at the Free. The team doctor fears it might be a fatigue fracture and doesn’t want to take any risks and truthfully I’m kinda ok with that, because I have more gold medals this season than any other and I’m very happy with my silver here. And I’m tired of this. Us. Not talking I mean. I miss you so fucking much, I could barely sleep. It’s never as bad as during the Olympics, I get it. It has to be done. But fuck, Yura, I wanted to kiss you so badly when you cried as they handed you the gold medal. I-” he couldn’t continue further, because Yuri had crossed the shower room in three long strides and silenced him with an aggressive kiss square on the lips. JJ stumbled half a step by the force, but by the time he’d put his arms around those thin shoulders and was reciproking the kiss he could actually feel how all the tension and stress practically melted from Yuri and he was left with the puddle-like boyfriend he loved and cherished so much.

“We will talk about that fracture later, but right now I’m just way too happy to care.”

“Everything you want, Chaton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think they're both so driven I can see how they would tear each other apart. Therefore the counter meassurements!


	4. Day 4 - Long Distance

Under normal conditions Yuri Plisetsky was as prickly as a cactus. These days though he was a dried out cactus, that was marinated in nails and drawing pin, decorated with some sort of thistles and also that kind of cactus that would throw its needles in clouds into the air whenever he got touched.

But it wasn’t really his fault for being that way. It was ass cold and thanks to Petir’s location on the map he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks! He left his flat in the dark, saw a little bit of grey light filtered through the glass of the rink, and returned home in the dark. Whenever he sat under the stupid lamp Victor had gotten him his skin died out and got itchy and scaly. The time between Europeans and Worlds was always the worst.

  
Potya had thrown up on his carpet three consecutive days and now she hated him with a passion because he took her to the vet. She wouldn’t even come when he prepared her food, only feeding when he’d left the room.

Mila nagged him about going out, but he was just so damn tired all of the time. Worst of all she’d accused him of being a bad friend. She’d attempted to lift him today, but he was over 1,85m these days and not nearly as light as he was at 15. Sure, she could bench press him still, but he’d been caught unprepared and wriggled out of instinct, sending them both flying. The resulting blue spot on his arm still throbbed painfully and he was aware he’d need to ice it tonight.

Katsudon was throwing him THE look a lot these days and Yuri hated it. He hated Katsudon with a passion, he hated the tenderness that was graspable between him and Vicdork. He hated how Vicdork tried to be all fatherly and yovial with him and got that hurt kicked puppy look when Yuri had enough.

Lilia somehow thought that discipline would bring him through his dark mood and worked him like an animal. Yakov, who gave his coaching duties more and more to Vicdork, had an similar idea and demanded he should also learn the craft and handed two Novice classes to him.

So, yes, one could say Yuri was tiny little bit stressed out. And worst of all he’d accepted a phone call without checking the ID today, snapping at the person who dared to interrupt his training. Only that it was his grandpa, who laughed heartily in his booming voice, but Yuri still felt horrible.

He wrestled his way into his flat, fighting with the key and his ripped grocery bag at the same time as he put one foot into the door to prevent Potya from bolting. She hissed at him and darted off on the top of her scratch post as soon as she noticed she wouldn’t go anywhere. With muttered curses he threw the whole damn plastic bag into the fridge and no he didn’t care that uncooked rice didn’t require any cooling! His shoes were kicked in a high arc from his feet and his training gear stayed where it had landed, sweat soaked socks be damned!

Yuri gripped his phone like a lifeline as he finally fell with an audible thump into his bed. As if the device had read his mind it lit up and the obnoxious ringtone was audible.

Yuri picked up and relief flooded him like molten chocolate, melting away all the stress and tension, filling him with a giddy bubbling happiness that he would deny to have ever experienced.

“Good evening, Chaton, I hope your day wasn’t too horrible?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hurrying to the train right now to visit my parents! I hope I can update tomorrow's piece in time, if not, I'm sorry!  
> Until then folks! <3


	5. Day 5 - Social Media

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I made it in time! Sorry for the kinda short chapter, but the idea got stuck in my head!  
> Beware of the dangers of misunderstandings in social media!

„JJ! How’s it going? I’m glad you could make it!“

“Phichit, thanks, I’m good. Happy to be here! Thanks for having me!”

Phichit waved his answer aside with a big and charming smile. “I’m so glad you agreed to be part of Phichit on Ice, Season 1! It’s going to be a great show!”

“Yeah, I can see that. You put a lot of work into it.”

Phichit made comically tortured face. “Oh, I tell you, it wasn’t easy to gather everybody. Usually in May most of us are too deep in the off-season to consider an ice show. I had to trick Otabek into coming by saying Plisetsky attended and told Plisetsky that Otabek was coming. They’re none the wiser, but I can see I’m running on borrowed time!”

JJ laughed at this and poured some more tropical fruit juice with spirit into his glass. A pool party was a rather unusual meeting background for the figure skating community, but not a bad one.

“So tell me, JJ, how’s your new cat doing?”

“My cat?” No JJ was puzzled, but took a sip of his drink anyway.

“Yeah, you don’t have one? I could swear you do! I mean, you complained over twitter how the beast is shedding and you find hair everywhere! That you’re covered in scratches and how it hisses whenever Izzy is visiting? By the way I think it’s great how you and Izzy are still friends!”

JJ’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Aaaaah, you mean my tomcat! Yeah, he’s doing fine. He’s a prickly little thing and only likes to be pet when he decides he wants to be pet. A bratty little thing But I still love him dearly!”

On the other side of the pool Yuri Plisetsky chocked on his fruit punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like cats :)
> 
> JJ also loves cats.  
> Especially feisty and prickly Russian breeds <3


	6. Day 6 - Royalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda sorry that this happened to be an AU, but I loathe the King JJ thing with a passion and couldn't write about it without ripping JJ a new one xD

Jean-Jacques was exactly two things. Scared shitless and cold.   
The being cold part is easily explained. He and his parents are huddled together at the harbour, under a stony archway of a storehouse during the darkest hour of the night with only a little lamp. The wind is cruel and no fur of the world could keep them warm here.

The being scared shitless part is also easily explained. They are meeting with the Northern Order, a brotherhood of mercenaries and assassins, men and women who would sell their knives and swords for whoever paid enough.

Jean-Jacques really doesn’t want to do this. He’s currently the second in the line of the throne. His cousin, the current king of half a year, grew up with him and he really likes him. Sadly though his cousin is also very dumb, and idiot even and it’s hard for him to string more than two complicated words into one sentence. In the short time he’s the kind he’d already proven to be the plaything of the court, sending the country down a dangerous road.    
So his mother, aunt to the current king, has set out and arranged this meeting, eager to see her own child on the throne.

“I see it’s true what they say about royalty. Punctuality really is the civility of kings.” The hooded figure had appeared so fast under the archway all three family members gasped loudly in surprise. He wore dark clothes, browns and greens, and beside his face and his naked hands he was practically invisible.  He had old hair, but a young face and eyes the colour of ice.

“You’re and idiot. I’m pretty sure the saying’s not known here,” a voice behind them said and like one creature with three heads Jean and his parents whipped around and suddenly there was yet another figure behind them. The voice was too dark for a woman, but the figure was lithe and made it hard to tell. He had hidden the lower half of his face as well as his hair, but Jean’s stupid heart did a little flip as the lampshine showed him the most beautiful blue green eyes he’d ever encountered.

“It’s not?” the white haired assassin said with an unconcerned air around him. Jean-Jacques though could only look at those eyes as they rolled in their sockets, clearly annoyed with the other.

“Is it wise to bring youths into this?” His father spoke up for the first time this night. A fire was lit in those pools of aquamarine and Jean thought he was burning on the inside. How could one fall for only a pair of eyes and little bit of skin?

“Oh, but my dear Baron and Baroness, you’ve offered us such a generous sum, we only saw it fit to provide you with our best and most successful assassin, the Ice Tiger?” His voice tilted at the end into a question, as if to ask ‘ _ oh, you haven’t heard of him? _ ’

Pride gloated in from of him, but Jean also couldn’t suppress the shudder that cursed through him upon hearing the name.

“So. You really want to kill your oaf of a cousin?” It was the first time the Ice Tiger spoke to him. Jean steeled himself, squared his shoulder and took the fiery stare head on.

“No. I don’t. He’s family and devoid of any sin. But I have to. For the sake of our country and its people. If I have to dirty my hands with his blood, their wealth and health will be worth it.”

The skin around the blond lashes crinkled as if in a smile. Suddenly the ice tiger was in front of him, his arms slung around his shoulders. Up close he was even more slender and petite. with one movement the cloth hiding this face was gone and the rest of him was as lovely as promised. Jean forgot how to breath.

“Such big words. How honourable. But I like you, little princeling. Let’s see if you survive as a king. I will accept your offer. And maybe you could hire me more often after that? I heard the best knife is the one in your hand and not the hands of the enemy, no? Or is this saying also not so popular around here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end JJ will be a benevolent king with a beautiful queen, lot's of children, who will lead his country into prosperity and peace.  
> One of the reasons his place is so secure is that he's bound the most lethal assassin of the whole continent to him and to his bed xD  
> Nobody crosses you when you can ask your lover to kill that and that minister, babe, could you, pleas? I'll also gift you a new cat, wouldn't you like that? Oh, and of course that silver set of knives. Only the best for my little killer <3


	7. Day 7 - Retirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably throwing a lot of my personal headcanons in here :)

JJ took a deep breath before he knocked at the light wooden apartment door in the heart of St. Petersburg. The door was opened by one Mila Babicheva, who greeted him with warmth while juggling her daughter on her hip. Retirement had been good to her, judging by the glowing skin and laughing lines around her eyes. It was the only testimony of her age, that and the child, and probably thanks to the healthy sun of northern Italy, where she and her wife spent most of the time.

“JJ! It’s good to see you! How are things in Canada? Thank you so much for coming. He’s in the living room. Can I leave him to you? I need to hurry and grab the metro back to my brother’s for dinner?”

Jean assured her it would be okay and yes, they would catch up later that week and no, he didn’t need anything, he’d been here most of the time. She left and suddenly the apartment was silent again. Jean shed of his coat and shoes and deposited his backpack next to the coat rack. Cautiously he proceeded further into the living room, ready to be met with yelling and the occasional thrown cup or cushion if he was lucky.

What he didn’t expect, and this scared him more than he cared to admit, was silence. Yuri sat on the couch, one hand buried into Potya’s fur, the other around a cold cup of tea. He looked out of the window a lost look in his eyes. A blanket over his feet hid the cast JJ knew was there.

Potya lifted her head and meowed at him. But she was an old lady by now and much too comfortable to swipe at him. Her owner though didn’t react at all.

“Chaton,” he greeted, sitting down next to the couch with audible cracking joints. “How are you?”

Yuri just shrugged.

“You cannot believe how scared I was when Madam Lilia of all people called me. She said it’s just a twisted knee, but you’re so sad, sugar fairy, there’s more to it, isn’t it?”

“You know what it is,” he said his voice raspy from disuse.

And JJ knew. He had retired himself 3 years ago. Thankfully at a peak; but broken feet, aching joints and a tattered body were second nature to him, too. He’d acted as an assistant coach for his parents, while juggling his label and his music career with renewed vigor. This season he could take on his first juniors as a full coach and Matthieu and Sophia both made it to worlds, making his coaching debut a rather successful one.

Yuri, though, Yuri still skated at 26 like he did at 16, defying gravity and winning medals left and right. Long gone were the times when he was called the second Nikiforov, he’d made his own legends. Jean, while happy for his boyfriends accomplishments, felt himself growing more and more impatient, because he was eager to start a new life together with Yuri. One that wouldn’t be possible while he still competed.   
So yes, one part of him was delighted when he heard of Yuri’s injury, the main part of him though was disgusted with himself. Sometimes he just couldn’t help the voices in his head.

“What are your options?” He knew better than to try and touch Yuri now. His boyfriend sighed deep and painful and deflated further into the couch.

“It’s just a sprain. Yeah, but the whole fucking knee is just so weak. I could skate another two seasons, but just one wrong landing can fuck it up big time. The risk’s gone up like a trillion times. So I can decide whether to end it now or to skate on a lottery.”

 _Don’t do that_ , JJ’s thought piped up. _It’s not worth it. Come with me. Leave everything. I love you, please, I wanna build my dream with you_ .   
But JJ didn’t say it out loud. He also knew how irresponsible it was of him to utilize Yuri to fulfill his own wishes without taking into account what Yuri had planned. If he’d planned at all. They’d never really discussed where they would live. JJ had always somewhat assumed Yuri would move in with him. In Canada they could marry and he had such a good job and he could get Yuri a good job either as a ballet instructor, choreographer or a coach like himself!

Of course he knew that the Olympic Committee of Russia had already offered Yuri a position if he were to retire one day, but surely Yuri would chose him.

 _But would you also chose Yuri?_ Yet another traitorous voice in his mind whispered and he felt himself coming to a stop. COuld he do that? Could he leave everything and everybody he knew behind and move to Russia? Skaters can be relocated, his label and music could also be lead and produced from here. No, he couldn’t do it, at least not now. Dread filled him as he realized he was about to demand exactly just that from Yuri.

“What do you want?”

“Heck if I know!” Yuri exclaimed, startling Potya, who yowled accusingly. He settled back down and pet the cat with cooing sounds.

“I know what I don’t want to do! And that’s to stand back and watch others taking medal after medal or worse coaching the kid who’ll end up breaking my record. No thank, you very much!”

JJ’s heart fell. _Did you ever ask him what he wants?_ The voice from before asked. _You always just assumed._ _You don’t have any right to be sad now, because he doesn’t wish to follow your plan._

“What do you want to do then?” Jean asked and tried his best to keep his voice even, even if there was a battle raging inside. He tried to keep the ‘you don’t know anything else but skating’ from it as well.

Now Yuri looked suddenly bashful, he squirmed a bit and JJ knew it was a sign of embarrassment. “Well, I do have a degree, but I’m pretty sure it’s more or less useless…”

“You have what? How could you hide something like that from me?” Ok, now the first voice, the one that wanted Yuri as his little co-coach, had spoken up before he could think.. But yeah, the reasonable voice and JJ himself decided as well, that was a good question.

“You knew I was enlisted at University,” he muttered, pouting a little. “And you never asked about it either…”

Ok, touché, that was right. But every skater was enlisted in one more or less useless course. Katsuki majored in expressive dance, for fucks sake! Others, like Otabek, had taken a more practical approach and had ‘studied’ sport’s psychology or like Leo health and sports studies. He himself had a bachelor’s degree in business, but the only time he really had to attend university was for one month during the summer and two consecutive months in spring during his last term. He was sure the sport’s programs ran similar in Russia.

“But I told you when I graduated…” He couldn’t really hide his hurt anymore.

“Yeah, it’s just… I wasn't very good. Which is why I’ve never applied for a Master, but now…? I dunno… maybe I think this would be something I would enjoy…? Definitely more than watching juniors stumbling over the ice.”

“What did you study?”

Yuri didn’t look at him, but focused on Potya instead, who had melted under his light massage. JJ had to strain his ears, to catch his mumbled “veterinary medicine”.

Well, Jean would’ve been floored if he wasn’t sitting already. And here he thought he knew Yuri by now. This wasn’t any degree you got awarded for being a good athlete and giving your name to a university. Any kind of medical degree required hard work, long hours of studying and probably a lot of practical courses.

“I don’t think I can quit yet, Jean,” for the first time Yuri finally looked at him. There were tears in his eyes and Jean knew now was the time to hug him. “I cannot stop yet. I have to have one last competition. I cannot say goodbye to the ice yet. I simply can’t.  
But after… after I could really see me… working with cats maybe?”

He sounded so genuine, so open that Jean couldn’t help himself. He embraced Yuri into a big bear hug,kissing his sweet mouth and hair and eyes.

“You never stop surprising me, you know that?”

“So it’s ok? I know I might injure myself badly, but I... just… can’t…?”

“Sh, sh, it’s ok, Yura, whatever you want, I’ll support you no matter what.” Finally big sobs shook the lithe frame under him and tears rolled down his cheeks in fat drops. Potya meowed in distress and furiously massaged Yuri’s abdomen in a try to soothe him.

“... and after… can we talk about where we will live? I don’t know yet if I’m able to leave Russia… but I want a future… with you in it?”

And JJ, and all of the voices inside of him, decided he loved this man and that this promise was more than enough. After all, they had all of the tomorrows with each other ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's mark on the his degree was a 2,2 (or a B- in american standard). Which is not bad at all, especially for such a subject, but Yuri's used to give his best and earn the gold and studying was a rather rounding and disillusioning experience. He was never dumb, not really, but with being an athlete there just wasn't enough time and he felt his marks were rather shameful which is why he kept the whole ordeal more or less a secret.


	8. Day 8 - Free AU Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a lot longer than I wanted xD  
> Have a stupid King JJ and a Russian Fairy!

“My king, your highness, most noble of the noble, please allow me present to you the gifts of our country and high court of the Southern Isles!” The man in the colourful robes bowed deeply, his face painted and his hair bleached blond on the top. One gaudy monocle was in front of a green eye and upon his declaration the doors to the throne room opened and a menagerie of equally vibrantly dressed people marched in, everybody carrying another kind of treasure.   
There was a miniature of a ship, which should be his, spices and dried colours in chests of gold, precious metals and gemstones, rich woods, silks and threads. A young lion was lead in on a golden chain, only fitting for the newly crowned king. Falcons and owls with their faces hidden and livestock and horses.

Yes, indeed, their neighbouring country hadn’t held back when they said they would attend his coronation. Of course Jean-Jacques knew it was only because they feared the military might his father had established and equally depended on their power when it came to protection from the desert tribes on the other side of the sea. It was still nice to see all these presents though. His wife already eyed one of the horses in particular with interes.

“My king, your highness, most noble of the noble,” the ringmaster called again and Jean-Jacques wasn’t really sure if the man, Christophe he was called, an ambassador from the south, was mocking him or not. Again he bowed deeply, his shaggy blond hair touching the floor.

“Our final gift has arrived. We wish for your reign to be prospering one and we wish that the odds may forever be in your favour. Therefore we’d like to gift you a token of luck and fortune!” A huge present, wrapped in blood red cloth, was brought behind CHristophe. With a dramatic swirl he pulled and revealed a bird’s cage, big enough to house a human. A startled gasp went through the court and here and there some ladies were fainting. Jean-Jacques also felt how his breath came short.

Inside the iron cage, it had to be iron, perched on a wooden swing, sat a fae.

Hair the colour of spun sunlight, skin as pale as the moon. Light green and silver markings danced over a body of beauty. They were naked besides of a silken loincloth and it was hard to determine their sex, there were no breasts, but who knew how fae were built in that way?

Bright glowing gossamer wings, not unlike dragonfly, but broader and stronger, were visible on their back. The fae had a vicious look on their beautiful face, no wonder since they were obviously not out of free will in the cage.

“We wish to gift you a fairy from our emerald woods! With him nearby your crops will be flourishing and no harm will come your way, King Jean-Jacques! It will not require food or water, since it’s like a plant, just put it near the sun and it’ll protect your family for eternity.”

Jean-Jacques stood up and went in front of the cage. The creature inside scowled and folded their wings around themselves, trying to hide from the obvious stares.

“He’s a thing of beauty…” Jean breathes and the ringmaster grinned cruelly.

“And completely harmless! Our mages made sure of that. See that golden ring around its neck?”

Jean nodded.

“Take this, your highness,” with that he was handed a small grey key, “it’s made out of iron and secures the lock of its bindings. But iron is poisonous for their kind and it’ll never be able to free itself.”

Jean felt how the aquamarine gaze was fixed on the key and decided he hadn’t seen the pearl like tear that had gathered on one of the fae’s lashes but never fell.

 

\--

 

It was weeks after the festivities that Jean finally found time to go through the various gifts he’d received from the neighbouring countries. His advisors had already sorted most of it. The precious metals and gemstones went into the royal vault, the silks and threads to the seamstresses and the animals into stables.

The fairy though had been placed in the southern parlor, where its cage stood as a centerpiece beneath the big glass windows facing into the gardens.

When Jean entered the big room his eyes were immediately drawn towards the glittering creature that shone like a precious stone in the sunlight. They didn’t acknowledge him at all but as Jean circled the cage he got to witness the forlorn and sad look on their face.

“Hello,” Jean tried cautiously, but didn’t get an answer either Of course not, Christophe had told him how the circle had also sealed their voice, for the voice of fae held their own strong magic and enchantment.

“In the weeks you’re here the harvest of the vegetables grown in the courtyard down there have doubled. I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m thankful for your influence.”

He didn’t know if it was because the fae understood him or if they were annoyed by his voice, but the glittering wings were drawn up again, like a translucent cocoon, wrapped around the shimmering figure inside.

From that day on Kind Jean-Jacques was fascinated by his gift. Everyday in the afternoon, when court was dismissed he would venture alone into the room with the cage. He’d instructed the guards to close the doors and not let anybody enter.   
It didn’t matter to him that the fae couldn’t answer, but he soon felt himself relaxing in their presence and started to poor the day’s hardships out. After leaving the room he would feel refreshed and happy and when things got complicated and stressful he didn’t think he could rule as good as he did without the rejuvenating magic of the fae.   
He’d decided to call them Yuri, quite liking the tingling quality the name held.

 

\--

 

Jean didn’t know he did wrong, but when looking back Yuri’s patience of how much he could take had probably run thin. The day was just like their usual routine, Jean would come by in the afternoon and tell Yuri about the hardships of today’s court session. In the end he would stand close to the iron bars, try to get Yuri to look him in the eyes and thank him for his magic.

Today though he felt daring. Too many nights he’d shuffled restless next to his queen, thinking about how smooth the moonlight coloured skin would feel, how soft the sunspun hair must feel and how sweet those plum lips must taste. In two days he would leave the castle for several weeks, visiting the big cities of his kingdom in the east and north. He wouldn’t be able to witness the beauty for a long time.

So today he extended one hand and crossed the bars.

Yuri, who hadn’t reacted to the King’s ramblings at all, had resumed to stare out of the window. It was thanks to the iron that dulled their senses that they were caught by surprise as the King’s hand gently pet over their shoulder.

Everything happened very fast. Yuri extended their sharp claws and striked at the intruding arm, the King cried out in pain and withdrew his limb just in time before the sharp needle like teeth clicked together were his fingers had been seconds ago. With a strange hissing sound the fae threw themself against the bars, eager to catch up with the human, one sharp tallon like hand extended. Flesh sizzled and burned wherever it was connected with the iron and the King fell on his behind with wide eyes.

It was the first time their eyes ever locked and Jean-Jacques felt as if dunked in an icy bucket.   
He adored the fae, he couldn’t imagine a life without them. But all he’d seen in the gem like eyes was hatred and despair. Yuri loathed him and with the intelligence he’d seen there he couldn’t really hold it against him.

“Your highness!” Then there were his guards beside him, having heard his screams. One helped him up while the other hearded Yuri back on their wooden perch in the middle of the cage with their lance. Ugly red stripes, oozing and with blisters had formed wherever the fae had touched the iron, but their gaze held nothing but pride and bellicosity. They may be mute, but the hissing sounds they made were threatening in their own way.

 

\--

 

Jean-Jacques didn’t return to the fae the next day and not the day after. Then he left for his travel but Yuri wouldn’t leave his mind, it was only thanks to the sheer workload he’d experienced that he could bring his mind to focus on the tasks ahead of him.   
The scratches on his hand were healing very slowly and their burn were a constant reminder of the creature that  sat tortured and imprisoned in his palace.

How could he’ve been so blind?

A greedy part of him rationalized that he couldn’t set Yuri free. The palace depended on their magic, becoming independent on any outside vegetables at all, because they could harvest several times of the year this summer. That and the bliss the King felt whenever he was close to them where reasons he couldn’t part from the fae.

He’d finally returned home after weeks of travel. While treated like the king he was, they’d spent too many nights in the coach and he yearned for his own bed. And for his fae.

But when he entered the southern parlor he found the big window front empty.

“Where is the fae?” He demanded like a mad man from the guard, who got frightened greatly by the angry king.

“M-my King! The a-a-a-advisors have i-i-instructed me to b-bring it down in the dungeon!”

Jean-Jacques called for his advisor, who admitted in a calm voice, that yes, he had given that instruction.

“My King, it had hurt you. It had dared to lay its hand on our leader. There were no ways to punish it but to lock it up. The Ringmaster of the South had told us it feeds of sunlight, so denying it that we found it would help best for it to learn its place.”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before Jean-Jacques had started to storm down in the dungeons. Grudgingly the advisor told him where to find his pet and even held the lamp for him when Jean reached the end of a tunnel where the cage was placed.

His heart stopped as he saw the wilted creature inside. The wounds from the iron hadn’t healed at all. They were filled with pus and necrosis, black and red tendrils sneaked under the skin. The golden hair had lost its sheen, streaks of ugly gray running through it. The once beautiful face was a mask of death, waxen and sunken in. Open wounds at the ripped lips, one eye infected and swollen shut, dark circles under them.

Jean opened the cage without hesitation. Yuri, who’d laid motionless on his perch only flickered one eye at him, the only indication they were still alive and no corpse.   
Despite better judgement the King lifted the fairy up in his arms, alarmed how light they were. He felt every vertebrae, could see every ripp. The once brimming with live body was reduced to a mummy like state.

Ignoring the questions of his advisor he marche up again and when the first ray on sunshine hit the body in his arms he felt the tremors running through it:   
Jean-Jacques marched into the courtyard where he sat into the lush grass, cushioning the fae on his lap. He saw how they took deep calculated breaths, their hands searching for the grass and burying their fingers in the green. It wasn’t a magical transformation, but the longer they laid there, eyes closed and expression calm, the more and more healthier they looked. The grey from the hair had melted into blond again and the wounds didn’t appear to be infested anymore.

Jean finally dared and pet their head, the hair as soft and luxurious as he’d imagined. He didn’t know how long they sat there in the grass and even if Yuri wasn’t moving he knew the fae wasn’t asleep, merely resting and recharging on sunlight.

The polite cough from his advisor drew him out of his reverie. Jean threw him a stern look. “You nearly damaged the gift from the Ringmaster permanently.”

The advisor bowed yet unfazed by the king. “And that’s what it is. A gift from the South, a token of our friendship. A punishment after a misstep is explainable, but anything else?” Of course Jean knew what the man was hinting at. He ordered for the cage to be returned to its original place and when the sun was setting he carefully lifted Yuri up again, carrying him back into the palace. It was clear that the fae was still weak, but upon the sight of the cage they started to struggle again. It broke the King’s heart at the silent cries and pleas, but even if ht was king he didn’t dare to go against the packt with the south. Yuri curled into themself on the bench, somebody had cleaned the cage, getting rid of the fluids, and wept for the first time. They had wrapped themself into their wings again, but their shoulders still shook in unheard sobs. Big fat tears fell down with clicking sounds on the floor, crystalized in gems and pearls.

With a heavy heart Jean turned his back at the cage and left the room together with the guards and the court members.

He needed to find a key.

 

\--

 

While the sunlight gave their body its strength back, the moonlight fueled their magic and Yuri was basking in it. Thankful to be able to see the moon again after being locked away in the darkness for so long.   
They heard the clicking sound of the door and tensed. 

It was the King that had entered, the man who owned them. The man they had to kill once they were free again.    
But something held them back tonight. Maybe it was the earnest look in the King’s eyes or the fact that they opened the latch of his cage again, holding out his hand for Yuri to take.

The King regarded him to be silent as he lead them on still unsteady feet into the very gardens they always observed from their prison.

“Please forgive my foolishness. I’ve been fed false information, they told me your thoughts were that of a mere animal. And when I saw the spirit in you I was greedy. If you will punish me for this, I ask of you to come for me when my son is ready for the crown, because my people and my country need me. After that I will give my life to you willingly.”

With that he held up the dreaded key and unlocked the golden circlet around their neck.

 

The reaction was instantaneous. Jean-Jacques was thrown backwards by a sudden gust of wind, he looked up and there in the air stood his fae, illuminated by the full moon, their eyes glowing as if a fire was lit inside of him. All wounds and traits of weaknesses were washed away and the creature in front of him was the embodiment of power and nature and suddenly Jean felt very small and insignificant.

Within the blink of and eye Yuri was in front of him, their cold and hot hands cradling his face, sharp claws holding him in place.

They said the voice of fae are beautiful but when Yuri opened their mouth it was not. Be it because he’d been muted for so long or because he obviously was a male fae Jean couldn’t tell.

“I will accept your terms. I, too, am a leader of my people and I, too, value the life of the innocent. During the full moon after your oldest son comes of age I will come for you and I will devour you. If you try to hide, I will find you. If you try to seek protection, I will tear through your defences be they iron of people.” And then Yuri kissed him, though it wasn’t a kiss of love, but one of a promise. Fire and ice poured down his throat, marking his soul and chaining his destiny to the fea. He got lost in the sensation, his mind whirling around and getting lost.

When Kind Jean-Jacques opened his eyes again he was alone in the moonlight courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I cannot believe I really managed this!  
> Even if it was a close call on some days I've managed to post a chapter every day!
> 
> It was a great experience! I didn't look at the prompts in advance, but took them day by day!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> And a big fat thank you to the organisers of the Week and all the other amazing artists participating! \0/

**Author's Note:**

> This behaviour comes directly from experience.  
> Lissy, the lethal cat of my best friend back in high school, would torment any visitor who dared to come into HER house.  
> She would strike and jump on and limp protruding from any surface!  
> Whenever we were at Miri's home we would sit just like JJ on the couch.  
> This cat came straight from hell!


End file.
